<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>violets in the dark by fromneptune</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428538">violets in the dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromneptune/pseuds/fromneptune'>fromneptune</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>in other words [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Police &amp; Yakuza, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Private Investigators, and about brothers doing stupid things, despite tsuki being yakuza, i didn't tag every character, kuroo and tsuki are fighting crime together lol, lots of song inspo, there are a lot of side couples as u can tell, there's an incident of near sexual assault later on, this fic is about flowers and christmas and blackouts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:06:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromneptune/pseuds/fromneptune</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite having a job, Kuroo Tetsurou likes to believe that he's unemployed. At least, that's how Kei sees it, because he isn't working whenever he drops by the office.<br/>Being a private investigator isn't all it's cracked up to be. Especially when you were forced into it by a yakuza boss and you have persistent, aching feelings for his son.<br/>Whose brother has gone missing, right as a string of strange police cases come your way.<br/>Yeah.<br/>Definitely not what he signed up for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>in other words [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>violets in the dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so! i've returned to krtsk yet again!<br/>tw//: throughout, there will be mentions of suicide, drug use, and descriptions of dead bodies.<br/>this is part of a series that i've been planning for a while, but i just now decided to stop procrastinating. leave me your thoughts if you'd like!<br/>also posting this the day after hq ended is a heartbreaking coincidence<br/><strong>song inspo:</strong><br/>"It would be a hundred times easier<br/>If we were young again<br/>But as it is<br/>And it is<br/>We're just two slow dancers, last ones out<br/>We're two slow dancers, last ones out"<br/>-Mitski, "Two Slow Dancers"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scotch. Brandy. Gin. Half-a-year-old peanuts that remained in the center of every table, untouched. The unassuming bartenders who probably never realized that illegal dealings were happening right under their noses. The people who sold at this bar only did so not because the staff were that oblivious, but because they could; they were skilled at their craft. Anything from drugs to gold to rare electronics circulated all evening long, every Thursday, Friday and Saturday.</p><p>For as long as Tsukishima Kei’s father could remember, from when he used to be the one behind the bar rather than the one pushing deals in front of their faces, that place has been that way. If he believed that personal “safe havens” existed, The Melted Sun would undoubtedly have been that place for him. But as quickly as these thoughts crossed his mind, they vanished. Upon leaving the bar with a sack of gold pieces, his eyes landed on a rat.</p><p>Rather, it was a small figure whose hair frayed to the sides, dark and powdery. The figure—a boy with a light bronze tan, he realized—had eyes that sneered at him, though his mouth was still. Sitting atop a recycling bin next to the bar, the boy held a long bamboo stick that lay across his lap. It seemed unimportant at first glance, but the palms gripping it had turned white. The man then noticed that the boy was old enough to be a man. His limbs, however, seemed sucked dry and raisin-like, as if he had been out in the sun and neglected to drink water for an entire week.</p><p><em>He appears to be alive, but is he really? </em>Kei’s father asked himself. He looked up. Above them, sticky grey clouds filled the sky. He released a weary groan. <em>I’m so going to regret this.</em></p><p>“Hey,” he said to the young adult.</p><p>There was no response, only a consistent, deep-seated glare. For some reason, the light behind those narrow, beady eyes brought a grin upon his own face. “My job is to intimidate people, so you’re wasting your time,” he continued.</p><p>More silence. He readjusted his three-piece suit before trying one last time. “Hey, do you like cats?”</p><p>Rather than an outburst, the young man changed his expression to a frown. Confusion seemed to wipe away whatever he was feeling three seconds ago. He fully faced the man who had nonsensically approached him, and asked, his voice rough and raw as if returning from a battlefield, “What?”</p><p>~</p><p>“Okay, hear me out! You haven’t been here in two weeks! Of course it’s going to look different. You can’t blame me for the natural flow of life.”</p><p>Kei had heard this excuse before. In fact, he heard it every time he decided to point out that Kuroo Tetsurou could not, for the life of him, keep anything clean. His lounge area becoming submerged in spicy chips and shortbread cookies and books was fairly understandable. But his office space—the only space that really should be kept clean was, amazingly, the worst of them all. Even while they argued, Kei could hardly see Kuroo’s face behind the stacks and stacks of DVDs, books and loose papers. He didn’t even want to mention the open bowl of soggy cornflakes—the same one he saw him set aside two weeks ago.</p><p>“Tetsu,” he began, folding his arms, “the whole point of cleaning is going against the natural flow of life. Do you know why I barely visit you here? It’s because the stairs up to the second floor are creaky and narrow. Because the girls on the first floor definitely either know my identity or think I’m some kind of actor. Because I’m always the one who ends up cleaning.”</p><p>Using a cane that stood alongside his left leg, Kuroo got up from behind his desk and the blockade of paper. He came around to the front of the desk and sat on the edge where there was a small open space. He looked up at Kei, and, after a moment, smiled. “You know, if you visited more often, I think I’d have more of an incentive to clean. And besides, I think those girls just like the way you wear your overcoat like a cape.”</p><p>Kei’s frown slightly deepened. This tended to happen when he felt that Kuroo was about to tease him in some way. “You know it’s because I get warm easily.”</p><p>“Really?” he snickered. “It’s not because it just <em>screams</em> ‘I’m yakuza’?”</p><p><em>There it is.</em> Suppressing the urge to walk out that instant, Kei stepped closer to the man still laughing at his own joke. He lifted up a small baby blue bag and dropped it on his lap.</p><p>“Oya? What’s this?” Kuroo asked, rummaging through the tissue paper and taking out a medium-sized box. He opened it, and inside was a silver watch.</p><p>“From my dad.”</p><p>“It’s beautiful, but…why?”</p><p>Kei went frozen. Aside from his preference to live in the midst of clutter every day, Kei has always been aware of how forgetful he was. However, there was forgetful, then there was the inside of Kuroo’s mind, and those were two completely different things.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday,” he said in one exhale, his eyes wide and mouth agape.</p><p>Kuroo immediately stiffened as his eyes grew wider than the clock on the watch. His mouth formed a taut, nervous smile. Kei eyed him until he could no longer keep his mouth still, and he muttered, <em>“Fuck.”</em></p><p>Kei tried not to grin, but his face muscles failed him. “Wow. You’re unbelievable.”</p><p>Frantic and sweating, Kuroo held his face in his hands. “What the hell? Are we in November already? How old am I now?”</p><p>“Should I tell you or should I watch you agonize over the fact that you don’t know? Decisions, decisions,” Kei mused.</p><p>“Just tell me! I’ll clean up if you do!”</p><p>“Alright, but you’re not going to like it.” Kei’s grin expanded to the edges of his face. He couldn’t even face Kuroo; he’d risk bursting into laughter if he did.</p><p>“Hit me.”</p><p>“…You’re thirty.”</p><p>It fell silent for a while, long enough for Kei’s grin to dissipate and his usual placid expression to return. Right when he was about to relay a few surface-level words of comfort, Kuroo stood and walked towards his kitchen. Instead of walking inside, he turned and walked to the door, then to the window behind his desk. <em>Did he just go around in a circle? What is he doing?</em></p><p>He swiftly turned around and cried, “30 is an even number!”</p><p><em>That’s what he’s freaking out about? </em>“Huh? I mean, yeah? What’s your point?” Kei found it difficult to take Kuroo seriously when he dramatized the slightest things, especially when he did it while wearing his cactus-printed sweatpants and anime sweatshirt. Despite also gripping a beech wood walking cane, facing the world with weary eyes and flame-like hair, Kuroo often refused to admit that his age was anything other than 23. Kei lacked any particular grievances with Kuroo’s wardrobe or his mindset, but that was most likely because he knew what it looked like when Kuroo’s actions reflected those of an adult—when his zeal returned, when he electrified his surroundings.</p><p>“You know how I feel about even numbers in general. I hated my twentieth birthday, my twenty-fourth…because once you hit an even age, that means you’re twice someone else’s age! I’m two whole fifteen-year-olds, Kei!”</p><p>“So what? I’m two whole fourteen-year-olds.” He paused. “Wait, that sounds weird coming out of my mouth. Don’t make creepy comparisons like that. Also don’t whine about it while we’re at dinner, okay?”</p><p>“Dinner? Are you taking me out?”</p><p>Kei almost winced at Kuroo’s question. Regardless of whether he was trying to be suggestive, it came across that way to him. “Well, we’re going to dinner, and I’m paying. That’s it.” At first, he was going to buy him a few ties, but Kuroo had enough already, courtesy of his father—a man who would spend more money on ties than clothes. Buying Kuroo an outfit or two wouldn’t have made sense either; he would wear pretty much anything. And since Kei knew that he had infrequent decent meals, this was the idea that he was left with.</p><p>“But before that,” Kei continued, “the real reason I decided to come up here—I needed a private space to talk.”</p><p>Kuroo’s eyebrows furrowed as he took a seat on his olive-green, cloth sofa. Only he himself knew of the stories behind each brown-grey stain on the cushions. “About?” he queried.</p><p>Kei remained standing, as he would rather get sunburned on a sweltering July afternoon than get caught sitting on that sofa. “My brother,” he answered grimly. His eyes fell along with the shift in his body language. Any of the previous gaiety he had upon his arrival now melted. He himself felt the chill that permeated from his skin, all the warmth getting sucked in and dragged away. He began to wonder if he was making an expression that Kuroo couldn’t decipher (for once) because the latter simply stared at him as if stunned into silence.</p><p>“Has something happened?” he finally responded, shifting to a more neutral expression. One seemingly already in deep thought.</p><p>Kei held a deep breath before speaking. “He’s missing. It was the day after we visited two weeks ago. It was early—we were both here, drinking and catching up. But he left before me. I saw him at the house later that night, but that morning, he was gone. I thought nothing of it at first, but my brother doesn’t usually go anywhere the day after drinking a lot. Especially since he was pretty wasted at the time.” He readjusted his eyes to focus on Kuroo, to anchor himself. Memories of Akiteru on that day flashed through his mind. “I waited a couple of days before contacting him, but when I went to see Saeko-san, she said he hadn’t been back yet. So we decided to wait, because there was nothing much we could do, but it’s been two weeks. Don’t you find that strange?”</p><p>He waited for Kuroo to respond. “And? Where is she?” he asked, with his thumb over his bottom lip.</p><p>“Saeko-san? She went to the States for a business trip last week. She’d been planning the trip for months, so she couldn’t just not go.”</p><p>Kuroo pursed his lips, thinking. “This…is definitely weird. I highly doubt Akiteru would just get up and go somewhere without telling his wife of all people. They’re too close for that. But also, isn’t she pregnant? How did she fly?”</p><p>“She’s still in her first trimester, so it’s fine.”</p><p>“That makes sense.” He glanced up at Kei. “So, do you and your dad want me to look into this?”</p><p>“He wants you to do it, but I insisted on joining you.”</p><p>“What? Why?” Kuroo asked as if genuinely surprised. It wasn’t the first time Kei admitted to wanting to assist him, but every time he did, he’d act as if it were the first. Kei sometimes wondered if Kuroo himself found his work interesting or worth witnessing.</p><p>He looked down at his gloved hands. “This is my brother we’re talking about. I have to be there. It’s like he just slipped through the gaps between my fingers and evaporated. I need answers, and you’re the only person I trust to help me find them.”</p><p>Kuroo flashed a grin. “You mean, I’m the only investigator who knows that you’re yakuza.”</p><p>With a roll of his eyes, Kei readjusted his black overcoat and headed to the door. He leaned against the wall with a poise that, as Kuroo liked to point out, was not customary to most mobsters. “Are you ready?” he asked. “Let’s go.”</p><p>“To dinner? <em>Now?</em> When I look like this?”</p><p>“Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you have to dress up. If you want to, I can wait, but…I much prefer what you have on already.”</p><p>“You do?” Kuroo stopped to absorb the unusual compliment, then realized that Kei never truly complimented him on anything, and that, with the way it was worded, could it even be one?</p><p>“Yeah, well, it’s funny,” Kei replied with a smirk.</p><p>Kuroo conceded to Kei’s whims without much resistance, as per usual. With a pleased sigh, he grabbed his note-taking book and fountain pen and threw on his running sneakers.</p><p>Outside, the evening chill swept through them as Kei wondered whether Kuroo regretted not taking a coat. He could see his arms curled around his torso and his teeth clanging together. “Are you cold?” he decided to ask. “Do you want my coat? It’s not like I really need it.”</p><p>And if his unwillingness to clean his office space was any indication of his stubbornness, Kei should have known that Kuroo would say, “I’m not cold at all,” while he dripped from his nose.</p><p>“Okay, but I don’t want to be responsible if you get sick, and we need you alive and well so…” Without turning to face him, Kei took off his coat and wrapped it around Kuroo’s shoulders. He noted that his shoulders seemed broader than they were in the past, but also that, after ten years, one’s shoulders were inevitably going to change.</p><p>Kuroo put his arms through the coat without a word of rebuttal.</p><p>Kei, who’d been making the least amount of effort to conceal their destination, was surprised when Kuroo noticed only halfway through their walk that the route they were taking was eerily familiar.</p><p>When they arrived, Kuroo looked up at the awning. The Melted Sun. He failed to disguise the disappointment in his voice. “Couldn’t we have gone anywhere else? Don’t we always come here?”</p><p>“It was either this place or your dad’s,” Kei said. He was fully aware of how much Kuroo wanted to avoid seeing and speaking to his parents, even on a day when their presence would, normally, be required. “I don’t know any other place that makes mackerel the way you like it. Plus, we can ask about my brother, since Saeko-san had told me that he’d been coming more frequently before he disappeared. It’s a win-win.”</p><p>They took their usual seats—the booth in the back-left corner—and ordered their usual dishes and drinks (grilled mackerel and cabbage over rice for Kuroo, stir-fried glass noodles for Kei; they both ordered a whiskey sour). Kuroo decided to use that gap of time to speak to an available bartender about anything or anyone out-of-place recently. Kei remained in the booth and watched him from behind. He’d set his cane against the bar counter. Kei watched as the dim golden glow of the bar lights shone against the slight amber tone of his skin, as his eyebrows deepened, and his lips curled strangely. If one were to see Kei’s expression objectively, they would write him off as being bored. But Kei subconsciously knew that something about watching Kuroo was more interesting than most things. The opposite of boring.</p><p>“So,” Kuroo spoke as he returned, “lucky for us, the guy I spoke to was behind the counter whenever Akiteru came, because he came at around the same time every night. 9pm. He would always get a bramble and scribble some things in a notebook. The bartender never saw what he wrote, but he did see that he was talking to a woman on most of the nights he was there.”</p><p>Kei didn’t know what to make of the information yet, especially since it concerned secret meetings with a woman. He and Akiteru had argued about this before, on the last day he saw him. Before attempting to put any pieces together, he asked, “Did he know what she looked like?”</p><p>“Ah, yeah. Actually, he said that she was Chinese American. Short bob-cut. He overheard them talking about her growing up in America, so he intervened and asked them what the States was like because he wanted to travel there or something.”</p><p>“Hmm. Is that all he said?”</p><p>Kuroo took a shot-like mouthful of his drink. “No, he <em>did</em> mention that Akiteru seemed really paranoid. Both of them did.”</p><p>After a moment, Kei released a long groan. “What has he gotten himself into? He has a wife and a kid on the way.”</p><p>“Well,” Kuroo said as the food arrived, “that’s what I’m here for, no? To answer that question?”</p><p>Kei saw his quick, confident smile as he spoke, which faded almost instantly in order to take in another mouthful, but of food. “I wonder how you can be so confident,” he pondered aloud. “This might turn out to be a disaster. We’re probably way in over our heads.”</p><p>“And?” Kuroo’s mouth was still full of rice. “You and I both know that it isn’t enough to stop you from trying. Not anymore, at least.”</p><p>“…Well, that’s true.”</p><p>Kuroo, having had finished his meal already, pointed to Kei’s untouched plate with his chopsticks. “You gonna eat that?”</p><p>Kei flicked his hand away. “I am,” he said. “Just order more food if you’re still hungry. I’m paying, remember?” He didn’t have the time to rescind his words or play if off as a joke; the waiter came in seconds and the words left Kuroo’s craving mouth even faster than that.</p><p>“Oh, speaking of wives, did mushroom man propose yet?” Kuroo asked as he drank the rest of his cocktail.</p><p>“Mushroom man?” Kei repeated. “Ah, Tadashi, you mean. Why do you call him that, anyway?”</p><p>“Because he looks like one?”</p><p>“No, he doesn’t.”</p><p>Kuroo grinned as he said, “My eyes are different than yours, Kei-Kei.”</p><p>Irked by the nickname, Kei replied, “Yeah, whatever. I’m aware that opinions exist. Anyway, Tadashi told me that they’re planning a wedding for next August.”</p><p>“Really? Wow, so he did propose. I remember he went to you for advice at like 3 in the morning one time, then visited me during regular hours. He was a ball of nerves.”</p><p>“He still is a ball of nerves. Just a controlled one. And Hitoka-san is a wedding planner herself, so…they should be fine? I think.”</p><p>During a long debate over duck meat and chicken, the rest of Kuroo’s buffet arrived. Kei simply watched him eat and told him their next destination.</p><p>“A bookstore? Akiteru was here?” Kuroo thought aloud, upon their arrival.</p><p>“Apparently. According to Saeko-san, they came here a couple of weeks ago to buy some baby books,” answered Kei. “Let’s go talk to the clerk first.”</p><p>The clerk, a shorter man with a robust shape and bouncy orange hair, took one glance at them and paled. “H-how can I help you?”</p><p>Kuroo stepped forward, leaning over the counter. “We just want to ask you some questions. I’m an investigator. By any chance, have you seen anything suspicious in the store lately? Or has someone told you about something strange that happened?”</p><p>The man relaxed himself and thought about the question. “Let me get my manager. I think he told me about something, but I forgot.”</p><p>As he left, Kuroo glanced over his shoulders and peered through the open back door that the clerk walked through. “I really hope he’s only going to get his manager, and nothing else.”</p><p>“I think we’re fine,” Kei said. “I can tell that people like him are honest to a fault.”</p><p>The clerk did indeed return with his manager, a much taller, slimmer man with short brown hair that curled at the ends. He wore rounded glasses that, to Kei, hid the distrustful glare he gave them. “So you want to know about what? A suspicious incident?”</p><p>“If you know of any,” Kuroo said as politely as he could.</p><p>The manager glanced at Kei before speaking. “Well, there was something. A couple of weeks ago, this couple came in, and asked for the pregnancy section. It was close to closing time, so I was the only one here. All I remember is that the guy was hovering over that section for quite a long time. Like, longer than someone usually checks out a section of books. He was staring at the shelves as if trying to solve a puzzle. They ended up purchasing a lot of them, so I can’t really complain, but…” He paused, reducing his hostility. “What’s even weirder is that earlier that day, I noticed a suspicious group of guys loitering outside my shop. And I thought that I saw him in that group.”</p><p>Kei’s eyes had widened at some point during his testimony, though it didn’t matter because all of it was completely foreign to him. “T-thanks for the info,” he stuttered.</p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>Kei turned and walked farther into the store but felt both Kuroo’s and the manager’s eyes on him.</p><p>“Kei, it’s okay. I think I figured something out.” Kuroo spoke in low tones to not direct any more attention their way.</p><p>“What could you have possibly figured out from that?” he asked.</p><p>“That your brother thinks he’s the smartest one in the room.” Kuroo walked to the pregnancy section and eyed the shelves. He moved the books around one-by-one, feeling even the crevices between the shelves. He continued to do so until he stumbled upon something stuck in one of those crevices. A piece of paper. It had been folded into six squares. As Kei hovered over his shoulder, he opened it.</p><p>
  <em>So if you’re reading this and you’re not me, then I was probably taken.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you’re Saeko, then I’m sorry for not listening to you. If you’re Kei, then you’re probably with Kuroo, and I’m sorry to you guys as well. The thing is, I don’t even know what I’m chasing. I just wanted answers—about Mom, Dad, Uncle. But I couldn’t find out anything. Nothing that mattered, at least. But the drugs, the morphine that they were selling, that has to end. It’s already made its way here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t try to save me, Kei. You need to learn what I couldn’t, and you need to be twice as careful about it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>–Aki</em>
</p><p>Kuroo crunched the letter between his hands as soon as they finished it. Kei could tell; if he wasn’t upset before, he was after reading it. Akiteru had always been one of the only two people able to truly irritate him.</p><p>“At least we found something,” Kei said to him. “A possible morphine ring is no laughing matter.”</p><p>Kuroo remained silent, his eyes away from Kei.</p><p><em>I wonder if he thinks we’re doomed now,</em> he thought.</p><p>Just then, Kei heard the clacking of wooden sandals on granite, and turned to see the store manager running outside. He had a broom in one hand and a phone in the other. Kei grabbed Kuroo by the arm and ran out to see what he was looking at. There was a jumbled circle of hooded guys, one of them quite short. The nighttime sky made it difficult for him to tell whether they were holding or carrying anything, and the minute they noticed them, they dispersed.</p><p>The manager boomed, “You fuckers better get away from here. If I see you around my shop one more time, there’ll be hell to pay!”</p><p>Only once they were gone and the manager went back inside did Kei glance at Kuroo. His expression was much calmer than it had been two minutes ago, but there seemed to be an underlying glimmer. A faint one, but one nonetheless.</p><p>Their thoughts were interrupted by a vibrating sound coming from Kuroo’s pocket. He took out his phone, and his eyes widened at the screen. “It’s from Akaashi.”</p><p>“Akaashi-san hardly ever texts you, so I’m assuming it’s important. What does it say?”</p><p>“It’s about a case. This woman, Lisa Yang, was found shot in her home, and while somehow it appears to be a suicide, he finds some things strange and wants me to drop by the scene tomorrow morning. Well, if he’s texting me, Koutarou must be completely against it.”</p><p>Kei’s heart skipped a beat at the name. He repeated it in his head: <em>Lisa Yang. Lisa. Lisa.</em></p><p>
  <em>“Why didn’t you come to me, Lisa?”</em>
</p><p>He recalled over-hearing Akiteru say those words in the corridor outside of Kuroo’s apartment. He’d went to go get him after asking him to buy more beer as a joke. They’d been at Kuroo’s for hours, arguing over things in the past that might have never happened. He was more than startled to hear him talking to someone on the phone in a fairly secretive manner.</p><p>
  <em>“I warned you, but I can’t do this with you anymore. You’re on your own. I’m sorry.”</em>
</p><p>Kei knew that in hindsight, his words were so perfectly out of context that he should have thought twice before grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. In that moment, however, his fears overcame his reflexes in the worst way possible.</p><p><em>“It’s not what you think it is, Kei. You have to believe me,”</em> croaked Akiteru, within Kei’s grasp.</p><p>Kuroo found them and broke them up before long, but the damage had been done. It was the last time he’d faced his brother before seeing him that night and glaring at him from afar. It was the last thing they’d done together.</p><p>Kei watched Kuroo stroll in front of him. He looked down at his palms and clenched them. “I should’ve believed you,” he uttered.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>